


Frosty Relations

by Graceful_Storyteller



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Humor, Loki is flirty, M/M, Tony has a LIST dammit, and untrustworthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graceful_Storyteller/pseuds/Graceful_Storyteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Why would you want to help? I would have thought you’d get a kick out of watching me turn into a popsicle?” </i><br/><br/><i>“You’re my favourite Stark. Your death will be at my hand and not that of nature.”</i><br/><br/><i>“You’re not really filling me with confidence here.”</i>
</p>
<p> <br/>In which the jet breaks down in the middle of the Arctic and Tony has to fix it before he freezes to death. Having to babysit a very distracting Norse god does not help matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frosty Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Avengers movievers, Loki/+Tony, Tony and Loki stuck in subzero temperatures; Tony is freezing but Loki doesn't even notice the cold.  
> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/339191.html?thread=60008951#t60008951

The screwdriver clatters to the floor as it slips from Tony’s numb fingers. He curses and picks it up before returning to the task of fixing the generator. His whole body shivers as an icy wind whips through the giant hole in the wall beside him and chills him to the bone regardless of the protection offered by his suit. He supposes that’s what happens when some asshole jams a dagger into the suit’s heating system.

 

Tony sends a glare at said asshole standing less than five paces away and staring absently at the wall in front of him. Noticing Tony’s eyes on him, Loki graces him with a winning smile. “Is there a problem Mr Stark?”

 

“Nope, no problem,” Tony replies casually. “Just wondering how you’re not freezing to death over there in your Sunday best.”

 

“Are you insinuating that it’s cold?” Loki asks with a delicately raised eyebrow. “I can honestly say that I hadn’t noticed.”

 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, sure. Because the Arctic is the ideal holiday destination for those who want a tan.” The engineer returns to his work for perhaps two minutes before swinging back round to stare at Loki. “Seriously though – aren’t you the least bit cold? Do you have some sort of heating system under all that leather?”

 

“I perhaps feel a slight chill but it is nothing to be concerned about.” Loki fixes Tony with a pointed stare as he says, “You, on the other hand, will likely develop hyperthermia before you finish repairing the generator.”

 

“And whose fault is that?”

 

Loki’s lips twitch as he fights a smile. “Your work will go much quicker with an extra set of hands.”

 

“Oh no,” Tony says as he brandishes the screwdriver at Loki. “No way am I taking off the handcuffs, or whatever those things are.”

 

Loki glances down at his restraints before pinning Tony with a leer. “Do you enjoy seeing me bound Mr Stark?”

 

“I do. It reassures me that you can’t throw innocent people out of windows.”

 

“Oh, if there was a window close by I would show you just how very wrong you are in that assessment Mr Stark,” Loki practically purrs, his eyes glimmering a dangerous emerald green.

 

Tony watches him carefully, the sensors in his suit scanning and calculating. The others are out searching for the ones who took down their plane and stole the Asgardian artefact they had been sent to the Arctic to retrieve. Tony had been left alone to fix the plane and guard Loki, who had also made an attempt to steal the artefact. The other guys had gotten in his way and what should have been a quiet snatch-and-go for the trickster had turned into Loki meeting the business end of Thor’s hammer before being subdued by Natasha’s thighs-of-death and Thor’s magic handcuffs. Thor had assured Tony that Loki would not be a problem before leading the team to find their mysterious thieves. Tony had agreed with that assessment when Loki was unconscious; as soon as the blizzard started and Loki woke up Tony had started to worry. The others had been gone a long time and Tony still hadn’t finished repairing the damage to the plane. The thieves had messed it up pretty badly and if Tony hadn’t been a genius he would have been worried that it couldn’t be fixed. But because he was Tony Stark and amazing in so many different ways he had managed to work out how to get the plane off the ground and back to civilisation. The only flaw in his plan was that there was a very good probability that he might just freeze to death before he was finished with his repairs. Loki was right in that respect – if he didn’t move faster he was going to get hypothermia and be royally screwed.

 

“Why would you want to help? I would have thought you’d get a kick out of watching me turn into a popsicle?”

 

“You’re my favourite Stark. Your death will be at my hand and not that of nature.”

 

“You’re not really filling me with confidence here.”

 

Loki grins. “Release me Stark and I will swear on my magic that I will not kill you in this barren wasteland.”

 

Tony considers him carefully, searches his face for the lie or the trick. “What happens if you do that and then break your word?”

 

“Then I will no longer have access to my magic. I will be just another god forced to rely on brute strength to subdue my enemies.”

 

“And intelligence,” Tony points out. “I doubt losing your magic will knock off any IQ points.”

 

Loki’s grin grows as he takes a step closer. “Release me Stark,” he purrs again. “You have nothing to fear.”

 

Tony has to laugh at that, but he reaches for the cuffs regardless. “First give me your word that I won’t die and that you’ll fix the plane and its heating so that it’s good as new.”

 

“I give you my word that it will be better than new.”

 

“Oh no,” Tony interjects quickly. “I don’t trust your definition of ‘better’. This plane will be just as I designed it; no extra features!”

 

Loki laughs softly and moves forward so that his body is pressed against Tony’s armour. Tony stills instantly, not sure how to react to the shiver of desire the contact sends through him. “I will ensure that you get home safe and sound Stark. I so swear it on my magic and my own life.”

 

“What about the rest of my team?”

 

“Do not test my generosity Stark.” Loki pauses, considers, then adds, “I shall make no move that will actively endanger their lives.”

 

Knowing that he couldn’t hope for more from Loki (and well aware that time is running out) Tony unlocks the cuffs restraining the trickster’s magic. They clatter to the floor around Loki’s feet. Tony watches as the god flexes his fingers, a soft golden light beginning to build in the centre of his palms. The god meets Tony’s eye and the inventor realises that those shining green orbs are filled with far too much mischief and dark glee. Tony tries to step back, to get out of range of Loki’s long arms, but the god is far too quick for him. The trickster grabs Tony and pulls him flush against his body. He holds him there, silent laughter in his manic smile, and Tony wonders if that whole swearing on his magic thing had been a lie. It’s either that or Loki has a very strange notion of what ‘getting home safe and sound’ means.

 

“I’m regretting letting you go right now, just so you know.”

 

Loki continues to smile in a way that implies silent mocking laughter. Then with a bright golden shimmer and the feeling that the bottom just dropped out of his stomach, Tony finds himself in his Malibu beach house. 

 

“There,” Loki whispers, “home safe and sound.”

 

Tony releases an involuntary snort of laughter. “Okay, so that’s part one of the bargain successfully completed. What about my plane?”

 

“It is as you designed it,” Loki says with a sharp smile.

 

The god hands Tony a rolled set of blueprints. The engineer stares at them in confusion before realisation slaps him hard across the face. “Son of a bitch – is this my plane?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This isn’t how I designed it; _this is my design of it_!”

 

“Semantics,” Loki says with barely suppressed mirth.

 

“You silver-tongued bastard – you just abandoned my friends in the Arctic without a way back! What the hell happened to not endangering their lives?!”

 

“ _Actively_ endangering their lives. I have launched no attack or sent a beast to devour them. If they are unable to return to their floating citadel that is no fault of mine.” Loki smiles sweetly as he adds, “If you are disappointed by the outcome of our deal, Stark, then you have only yourself to blame. You were the one who agreed to the terms set by a known trickster.”

 

“You manipulative asshole,” Tony hisses as he aims his repulsors at Loki’s chest.

 

The trickster darts behind Tony’s back before he can fire. He grabs one of Tony’s arms as he goes and twists so that the repulsor is aimed at Iron Man’s lower back. Tony grunts as pressure is applied and moves his free arm to shoot over his shoulder. Loki grabs his wrist and places the gauntlet over the Arc Reactor. Tony’s heart begins to race as it always does whenever someone pays too much attention to the thing in his chest keeping him alive. He attempts to wrench his arm out of Loki’s grasp but the god’s grip on his gauntlet tightens and holds him in place. The metal around Tony’s wrist groans as he struggles and the engineer is unpleasantly reminded that Loki is Thor’s (adopted) brother. The guy might not have Thor’s bulging muscles but he’s _strong_ – strong enough to dent metal with his bare hands and go one-on-one with the suit. He’s also smart enough to keep clear of the backward headbutt Tony’s attempting.

 

Tony fires up the repulsors in his boots and heads for the ceiling. Loki remains attached as they smash through the roof but releases his hold as they enter the brilliant blue Californian sky. He drops to the roof gracefully and his eyes instantly find the hovering Iron Man. Loki’s no longer smiling. He’s entered battle mode and Tony’s fine with that because he’s _pissed_ and wants nothing more than to sink his armoured fist into Loki’s stupid face.

 

Nothing happens for a moment as Tony weighs the pros and cons of firing a missile at the god of chaos when he’s perched on the engineer’s roof. Then Loki rises from his crouch, slow and regal with the smirk of a predator adorning his lips. “Are you going to fight me Man of Iron,” he enunciates carefully, just loud enough for Tony to catch, “or are you going to coordinate an attempt to rescue your comrades with the spymaster?”

 

“Why can’t I do both?”

 

Loki chuckles, low and dangerous. “Don’t underestimate me Stark; I can be very distracting.”

 

Even through his rage Tony notices the seductive purr in Loki’s voice. The engineer laughs in disbelief. “What the fuck Frosty? Is putting my friends in danger and fighting me like foreplay to you?” When Loki’s expression remains unchanged Tony’s eyes widen in comical horror behind his faceplate. “Oh shit it is isn’t it? You’re totally getting off on this you insane fuck.”

 

Loki gives the princely version of a shrug. “I have been called worse things.”

 

It takes even Tony’s genius brain a moment to absorb that information. “So when you defenestrated me during that first alien invasion...”

 

“Oh no, I was honestly trying to kill you back then,” Loki says unrepentantly. “However, our little conversation before your unconventional exit did firmly establish my interest in you.”

 

“So when did I first pique your interest?” Tony asks, curious despite himself.

 

“When you battled the Thunderer,” Loki replies with a primal hunger that rakes down Tony’s spine. “You managed to hold your own against a god, even if he was not utilising his full power. You did more than most warriors of Asgard are capable of and you are not even a warrior. You are a creator and shaper of things; a smith of metal and words and the opinion of the masses. You could hold this world to ransom if you so desired.”

 

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit aroused by Loki’s words. He’d also be lying if he said Loki wasn’t his type. If the trickster had been a redhead and not a war criminal Tony would have asked him out to dinner and drinks the moment he’d met him. Unfortunately, Loki’s past transgressions meant Tony’s pesky sense of morality had put him up there on the list of people Tony was not allowed to try and bed (right between the Black Widow and the flirty waitress at one of his favourite restaurants who is most definitely underage). At times like this Tony’s libido really hates his sense of morality.

 

Tony mentally shakes himself and refocuses his attention on the problem at hand. “You’re right Rudolph: you are distracting. For a minute there I forgot that my friends are still trapped in the Arctic.”

 

Loki’s grin is smug. “It is no fault of mine that your mind so easily wanders to places of moonless nights and entwined bodies.” The god bares his teeth as he says, “Call the spymaster. I will not impede your attempt to save your comrades-at-arms.”

 

Tony watches him warily. He trusts Loki as far as he can throw him (whilst not wearing the suit, obviously) but he really needs Fury to send a plane to the Arctic ASAP. He supposes as long as he keeps his distance he can talk to the one-eyed pirate and keep Loki in his sights whilst he tries to figure out what game the trickster is playing.

 

“JARVIS.”

 

“Connecting to Director Fury now sir.”

 

Fury answers immediately with a string of curses and demands to know why communications have been down for the last hour. All Tony has to say is, “Loki,” before Fury’s tirade of abuse starts all over again. “Hey, Nick, before you burst a vein and have to deal with that mess would you mind doing me a favour? Can you send a plane to the Arctic to pick up the team? Mine got Loki’d and is in no condition to fly.”

 

“Fine. What are your coordinates in case we lose communications again?”

 

“Yeah, about that, I’m currently not in the Arctic.”

 

“What do you mean you’re not in the Arctic?! Where the _hell_ are you Stark?!”

 

“Sorry Nick I have fish more slippery than you to deal with. Give my love to the others when you find them.”

 

Tony hastily ends the call and once again focuses his attention on Loki. The trickster hasn’t moved, as promised, which encourages Tony to lessen the distance between them. He’s still suspicious as hell but curious too about where this encounter is going to go. (He tells himself not the bedroom; he’s not _that_ easy, and Loki is on _The List_.)

 

“So, what now?”

 

“That all depends on you Stark. I have no desire to kill you today. I am happy to either leave you to mend your armour or to tumble into your bed.”

 

Tony staunchly denies how little he is adverse to the latter of those options. “I’m already in deep shit with the pirate captain for leaving my post – I don’t think it’s a good idea to round off my day by doing the nasty with SHIELD’s most wanted.”     

 

There’s a triumphant gleam in Loki’s eyes as he asks, “So if you were on better terms with your spymaster you would lie with me?”

 

“No.” _Yes._

 

Loki’s smirk is wide enough that there is a distinct possibility that it might split his face. “It seems more truthful parts of your anatomy contradict your lying tongue.”

 

“Yeah, well, your mum.” Let it never be said that Tony Stark is anything but mature.

 

Loki’s brow creases in confusion. He stares at Tony, clearly waiting for an explanation. The engineer decides he doesn’t want to give him one and is more than happy to wait until Loki gets uncomfortable and changes the subject.

 

Unfortunately, it is Tony who is the first to be discomforted by the silence between them. “If it’s all the same to you I have places to go and people to save so kindly see yourself off my property before I have to build myself a shotgun and chase you off.”

 

Loki raises an eyebrow. A moment later his amused smile returns and he offers Tony a small, mocking bow. “My deepest apologies for the inconvenience Mr Stark. Until we meet again...” The golden glow of Loki’s magic surrounds him, cloaks him, and then causes him to disappear in a bright flash.

 

“Apologies my ass,” Tony mutters as he drags his gaze away from the spot where Loki had been standing. “JARVIS, wake the boys up. The suit needs fixing ASAP; I’m going to need all hands – claws – on deck for this one.”

 

“Very good Sir. I suppose you would also like me to remove Mr Laufeyson from _The List_?”

 

“No JARVIS; I want you to double – no, _triple_ – underline his name, because that shit is _not_ happening.”

 

“Indeed Sir,” JARVIS relies dryly.      

 

“One of these days I am going to programme the sarcasm out of you JARVIS.”

 

“I eagerly await that day Sir.”

 

Tony smiles despite himself as he enters his workshop. Diagnostics of his suit appear in holographic form along with calculations and JARVIS’ suggested modifications. Surrounded by the familiar math and mechanics of his suit, it is easy for Tony to push thoughts of Loki out of his head and focus on making repairs.

 

(Ten minutes later Hill calls to tear him a new one. Tony once again regrets removing the magical bondage gear)


End file.
